


The Dynamic of Friends and Lovers [Wrench & Numbers]

by hipbonesofChrist



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: ASL, Cute boys, Dancing, Fluff, Fringe jackets, Gay as hell, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of a Friend, Loss of a Lover, Love, M/M, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:04:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipbonesofChrist/pseuds/hipbonesofChrist
Summary: A series of oneshots about our two favorite hitmen.(Note: since Wes is deaf, assume all italicized dialogue is signed, not spoken.)





	1. Stargazing

He couldn’t hear Grady’s sighs and moans of passion. But he knew Numbers loved him anyways. A touch on his thigh, warm breath on his face as they nestled together in their hotel room — always a room with two beds, to keep up appearances. They didn't mind; Grady loved being nearly on top of the bigger man. Smaller space meant being closer to Wes; the car would have looked like a Pollock painting under blacklight.

Wes hadn't just been bullied in grade school. Bullying was, in his eyes, something that only happened to children, and the harassment continued well after he’d left childhood behind. Rather, he’d been abused, wronged in the worst physical way. At least, kicked until every inch of him was bruised. At most, beaten and left for dead on the sidewalk, so that he couldn't tell where his skin started and the bloodied pavement ended. He could barely talk even before the endless brutality — he sure as hell didn't after. His night alone on the pavement was the only night Grady hadn't been there — up till then, they shared equal parts of the beatings. It was the last time Wrench was left alone for more than five minutes at a time.

Sometimes, he had nightmares that Numbers hadn't come back to peel him off the ground. After all, he would more often than not end up right beside him, their blood mingling as it poured from their noses.

Luckily, Grady hadn't been a peaceful soul, even then. He soon learned how to dish it out just as well as he took it. It was almost comical, how the mute, hulking menace cowered behind the shorter kid with the dark, stony eyes. And he still did. Only at six and a half feet tall, you couldn't tell he was scared.

They were usually employed doing something or other. Sometimes killing, sometimes not. But it was a rare moment when they had time to themselves, and, as friends and partners and lovers do, they were sure to make every moment count.

Tonight, it was stargazing. Wrench lay on the hood of the car, glaring at the stars while Grady rubbed his hands in the sand, trying to scrub away the blood on his tan skin.

“ _Are you coming_?” Wes signed, but Numbers wasn't even looking his way.

It was rapidly getting dark. In a few minutes they weren't going to be able to communicate without a flashlight. Wes tore his gaze away from the sky and stared the smaller man down until Grady looked at him, feeling his eyes on his back.

He raised his hands in question, exasperated. Wes just looked pointedly at him.

“ _I don't want blood all over me_.” He signed with unsteady fingers. He turned away from Wrench as the taller man slid from the hood of the car, approaching him with measured steps. He grabbed Grady’s wrists, examining his hands. There _was_ no blood on his hands; only blood blisters from where Numbers had scrubbed too hard.

Wes looked into the dark, familiar eyes. Eyes that had granted him solace since he was twelve years old. He didn't want to, but he let go of Grady’s hands to say, “ _You’re okay._ ”

The job they had taken care of had been rough. A lot of pleading and promising and threats on the victim’s part. A lot of emotion. Grady hated that, Wes knew. It made what they were doing that much harder. It made Numbers feel that much worse.

Grady leaned in, wrapped his arms around Wes’s midsection, holding him too tightly. He closed his eyes, smelling the familiar cologne of Wrench’s coat.

“I love you.” He whispered again and again against the brown fabric, not sure if Wes could read his lips and not caring. After a moment, Grady felt the weight of strong arms around him, reciprocating. Saying with touch what he could not say with voice. Just like in grade school, in that fleeting glimpse of high school, in the car before their first job and in the bedroom after.

Wes felt Grady’s breath catch as he shuddered and hugged him tighter, pulling him towards the hood of the car and only letting go so that they could both lay there, backs against the cold glass. Numbers took Wrench’s hand and held it tight for a moment.

“ _He said he would hurt you._ ” Grady pulled away to sign. Wes had to squint in the dark to see it.

“ _You’ll protect me_.” He reminded, leaning over and resting his head on Grady’s chest.

“I’ll always protect you.” Grady said out loud. Saying it aloud, to the desert road and the stars above them, made it real. Number’s voice carrying through the dark was a promise, a solemn vow. Wes looked up at his lover’s lips, and could read them perfectly.


	2. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It was a closely guarded secret. But Wrench and Numbers knew how to dance."

Wes sat at their crappy motel desk, flipping through a phone book, tracing with his finger. Grady sat behind him on the bed, ankles crossed as he flipped through endless TV channels, his dark eyes flickering from the ever-changing screen to the tall man in the chair.

“ _Let’s dance_.” Grady signed, hoping that Wrench would see. When he did not, Numbers tossed first a business card from his pocket, then a paper clip followed by a bullet casing. It was clear to Numbers that he was being ignored.

Finally, out of ammo, Grady tossed the TV remote. It hit Wes’s thick jacket with a soft thump, and from the sudden tense of his square shoulders Numbers could tell Wes was done being elusive.

“ _What the hell_?” Wes sighed irritably, fingers flying. His blue eyes came to rest on his companion and blazed with sudden fury, a mood swing well known to his friend. Wes didn't like to be interrupted, especially while doing research. Even less so by airborne projectiles thrown by his partner. Sensing a fight imminent, Grady swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. He moved towards Wes slowly, giving a small smile which wasn't returned.

“ _What the hell_?” Wes repeated, just before Grady took his hand, interrupting any further communication, and stood flush with his partner’s chest. His free hand went to Wrench’s back, and his fingers drummed out the beat of a waltz on the thick coat. Forseeably, Wes stepped away from Grady, tugging their hands apart to protest. He didn't sign anything, only looked at Numbers with accusing blue eyes.

“ _Let’s dance_.” Grady signed. He leaned in, reaching for Wes again, only to be carefully rebuffed a second time. His dark eyes met Wrench’s, a smirk spreading across his face. Wes knew him well enough to sense that his feelings were hurt, that the smile was just hiding it. He stared at Grady in that intense way of his while the shorter man stooped to pick up the remote and sat back on the bed.

“ _Sorry_ ,” he signed, not waiting to see if Wes had seen or not. The sarcasm, or perhaps derision, was biting, even in sign language. Wes found it harder to concentrate.

Finally, slapping the phone book closed, he stood and sat beside Grady, who was glaring at the television testily.

“ _I’ll dance_.” He signed, waiting for a response. When none came, he stood between Numbers and the TV, arms crossed. He knew Grady wouldn't pass up this chance to dance. He never did.

Numbers approached Wrench quickly, standing before him with that guarded look in his eyes that could mean either dancing or, more often, a hard right hook to Wes’s jaw. He had been about to do it, too. His fist raised quickly — but Wrench was quicker. He caught Number’s wrist and pulled the man against him, other arm wrapping around Grady’s back and holding him tight. Grady struggled against him.

“ _Drama queen_.” Wes signed quickly and briefly, before catching Grady up in his arms again. To stop him from pushing away, Wrench leaned in and buried his face in his companion’s neck. Numbers went still, the tall man’s warm breath on his tanned skin enough to take all the fight out of him. Wes kissed his neck lightly, feeling Grady’s hand tangle in his curly, sandy hair.

And suddenly they were dancing, turning and swaying to the beat that Grady drummed out on Wes’s shoulder, over which his arm was slung. Wrench’s rested on Number’s waist, pulling them as close together as they could be.

Grady’s eyes had lost that guarded look, softened and dark chocolate brown. Wes’s were always that piercing, ice-blue. But now they were solely focused on his partner’s face. Wes gave a hint of a smile, raising one hand to sign, “ _I love you_.”

Grady stood on his toes and kissed Wes gently, spinning in time to the silent beat.


End file.
